Page 42 of Broken Prince

He shook his head. “No, I know you’re going to town and I was wondering if you can bring dinner?”

“I thought—” I stopped and shook my head. We had agreed for pizza yesterday but maybe it was his way to come and talk to me and I enjoyed seeing him, talking to him. Why did I question it? “Of course, I’ll bring pizza.”

He approached me and leaned against the kitchen island. I could see him from the corner of my eyes. I could feel his body heat, smell his subtle cologne. I closed my eyes and didn’t even realize I leaned toward him, taking a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

I jerked upright and blushed so brightly I felt like my face was on fire.

“Yes, sure. Fine.”

“If you say so.”

I nodded, avoiding his eyes as I could hear the smile in his voice. I hadn’t fooled him; of course, I hadn’t.

I cleared my throat. “Is Dom around?” I turned toward him and I didn’t miss him tense, his lips purse. Was he jealous? No, that was ludicrous. I’ve seen the type of girls he was seeing before all of this—I was not even a blip on that man’s radar.

“No, sorry to disappoint, he is in the city for the day.”

Something he forgot to mention last night. “Ah.” I waved my hand dismissively. “No, it’s okay. It’s just we’re getting more flowers today, and I can’t wait any longer if I want to make it to Jude’s on time and—”

“I’ll take care of them.” He nodded.

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. I enjoyed that little playfulness in him even if it was rare.

“Okay then.” I grabbed the cake I baked from the counter. “You can have them set by the atrium. The weather is supposed to hold for a few days.” I jerked my head toward the general direction of the garden. “Just make sure it is only the pink flowers he is delivering today. We ordered some roses, some azalea, some begonias…” I sighed, I didn't need to bore him with all the details.

“No worries. I’m sure I can handle it.” He buried his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “Pink flowers were Arabella’s favorites.”

I finally looked at him with a small smile, the embarrassment from before gone. “I know it is. And purple.” I pointed to the other side of the garden. “This garden is an ode to her.”

He looked away and despite the beard, I could see his jaw budge. Did I offend him by doing that? I thought it would make him happy.

“Luca?” I put the cake back on the counter, moving from one foot to the other with discomfort. “I-I can change it, I’m sorry I thought—”

He looked at me, his face a turmoil of emotions. “Thank you.”

I let out a breath. “What?”

He jerked his head toward my plan on the table. “This means more than you think. You are one of a kind, Cassandra West.”

I waved my hand dismissively, my chest warming under the praise. It was not something I had been used to with the parents I had.

I picked up the cake again, attracting his attention to it.

“Happy birthday?” he read on it.

I let out a chuckle. “Yes, I know it’s kind of sad to bake your own birthday cake but—” I shrugged.

He stilled. “It is your…birthday?”

“Yes. No.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Okay…”

“No.” I chuckled. “My birthday is on Sunday, but it’s not a big deal, you know. My parents have never celebrated our birthdays. They never considered our birthing as being an achievement on our part.”

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